


An Ordinary Encounter

by Amberstarry



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Sam, Coffee, Coffee Shop, Destiel - Freeform, Eavesdropping, First Meeting, M/M, People Watching, Pie, dean/cas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberstarry/pseuds/Amberstarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is a barista in a small cafe, his favourite pastime is people watching. One day his little hobby sees him observing the meeting of two strangers named Dean and Cas. The two men are very different, and Sam can't help but become absorbed in watching them interact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Ordinary Encounter

Sam’s favourite pastime was people watching. As a barista, you didn’t really get much in the way of entertainment or stimuli working a single machine day in and day out; so it was only logical that he found ways to amuse himself as the days plodded along. As it happened, many interesting people came into the small café he slaved away in: which luckily made for good observation.

 There were the workers who came in and gruffly ordered their morning pick-me-ups in a monotone voice, then there were the bohemian types who asked for lattes or espressos; then you had the smartasses who tried to create monstrosities by combining all sorts of strange ingredients into their coffees for laughs; there were the teenagers who requested iced coffees with cream on the top, there were the businessmen and women who rushed in and ordered eight coffees at a time for their whole office; there were sometimes the mothers with their little kids who would buy a latte and a hot chocolate, and then there were the older people who might go for a tea or something mild.

 You could tell a lot about a person by the coffee they preferred, or so Sam believed. He liked to form whole stories about the customers he served and the lives they lived. Like the women with the curly hair and drooping eyes: she might have been working all night for a deadline she needed to make desperately in order to get a promotion, because she was saving up to buy a wedding ring for her partner; and that’s why she looked so exhausted.

 However the following story was not one that Sam imagined in his head – this story is all too true. Sam just happened to witness it first hand, thanks to his little hobby. It is stories like this one that made Sam feel being a barista wasn’t lowly at all, not when you got such a rich experience from it.

* * *

 It was a Friday, and the weather wasn’t all that great. It was overcast and drizzling, raindrops ran down the glass of the café windows from a shower that had happened a few hours ago. There was also a dreadfully chill breeze that came in through the door whenever somebody entered the shop, although Sam didn’t notice it too much since he was perpetually stationed right next to the espresso machine. A man with messy, dark brown hair came in through said door, awkwardly trying to close his black umbrella as he stepped in from the outside. When he managed to get it shut, he made his way up to the counter where Sam smiled happily and began taking his order.

 “Hello, what would you like today?” Sam tucked a tuft of chestnut hair behind his ear and waited patiently for the man’s reply.

 Now that the man was closer, Sam could see that his face was weatherworn and riddled with exhaustion. He wasn’t clean-shaven; a five o’clock shadow graced his chin and sides. His cobalt eyes were hard, almost looking confused at the question he had been asked. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he opened his previously straight-faced lips to place his order. “I’ll have a mochaccino, thank you.”

 “And is that to have here or take away?” Sam asked.

 “Have here,” the man replied.

 “Great, that’ll be five dollars. I’ll have it to you in a few minutes.” Sam punched in the order on the register and took the five-dollar note handed to him, then gave the man a table number to take.

 The man took the number and ambled over to the only currently empty table and sat down. Sam watched momentarily as he pulled out a newspaper to read. He then started on making the order.

 A little while later, after Sam had made the mochaccino and set it down in front of the scruffy man with the cobalt eyes and returned to his station, another man who couldn’t have been much older than himself entered the café. This man was much more confident than the last, and was well kempt in comparison to the earlier customer. His mousy-brown hair was gelled up at the front, and he had a very light, short growth of stubble on his chin. His walk was more casual and cool as he approached the counter at a steady pace. He even began before Sam had a chance to greet him:

 “Hi, I’ll have a straight black, thanks,” the man said.

 “Anything else with that?”

 “Do you have any apple pie?” The man asked as he looked into the cake display beneath the counter.

 “Yes,” Sam nodded.

 “Great, I’ll have a piece of pie as well then.” The man smiled and placed fifteen dollars on the counter before Sam could say the amount owed. “Keep the change.”

 “Thanks,” Sam said, taking the money and punching the order into the register. “Have here or take away?”

 “Have here,” the man said.

 “Well there’s no tables left so I can’t give you a number, but I’ll look out for you when your coffee is done.”

 “Thanks,” said the man.

 Sam watched as the man turned around and looked at the people occupying the tables. He surveyed his surroundings for a few moments before deciding to head over to the table where the tired man with the cobalt eyes was residing reading his newspaper.

 The man, whose eyes Sam had noted were a stunning forest green when he had approached the counter, sat down and smiled at the scruffy man sipping his mochaccino. “Hi, my names Dean,” he heard him say, extending a hand.

 There was a pause as the other man looked over Dean. He closed his newspaper and looked at him squarely. “Have we met?”

 “We’re meeting now, aren’t we?” Dean quipped, his smile broadening slightly. The other man didn’t seem to be amused.

 “Well Dean, I’m trying to read my newspaper, so if you would kindly find another table that would be great.” The man picked up his newspaper again and turned away.

 Dean retracted his hand and sat up. “There isn’t any tables free, that’s why I sat here,” he explained.

 “Why did you order a coffee to have in then?” The other man asked without looking up.

 “I don’t really know,” Dean answered honestly, “it just seemed like a good idea at the time.”

 Sam had to tune out at this point to focus on making Dean’s coffee. He wondered what the other man’s name was, and what was going to happen between the two men after Dean got his drink. A few minutes later and Sam had a freshly brewed black coffee. He walked out and over to Dean, who was intently watching the other man read his newspaper.

 He set the coffee down in front of Dean and dusted off his apron. “There you go, one black coffee.”

 Dean smiled and picked up the coffee. “Thanks a bunch, Sammy.”

 Sam started, and Dean, seeing the confused look on his face, laughed. “I read your nametag, man. Don’t worry, I’m not a stalker or anything.”

 Sam’s face cracked into a relieved smile. “Oh yeah, right. No problem, enjoy your coffee.” And he went back to the counter.

 “You startled that poor boy,” he heard the man reading the newspaper say to Dean as he was walking away.

 “He’s fine,” Dean’s voice responded. “You still haven’t told me your name you know.”

 By this point Sam had reached the counter again. There didn’t appear to be any customers coming in immediately, so he now had time to observe Dean and the mystery man before duty called again.

The man put down his newspaper once more and sighed. “If I tell you my name will you leave me alone?”

 “You’re the one who started talking to me again,” Dean said, taking a sip of his coffee.

 “Touché,” the other man said. “Fine, my name is Cas.”

 “Cas,” Dean repeated, “Is that short for Casper or Cassidy?”

 Cas chuckled. “No actually, it’s short for Castiel.”

 “Castiel? Now there’s a name I don’t think I’ve ever heard before. Nice to meet you, Cas.” Dean extended his arm once again, and this time Cas reluctantly shook his hand.

 Sam ducked his head under the counter to retrieve a piece of apple pie. He placed a slice on a plate, pulled out a knife and fork and squirted a spiral of whipped cream down next to the pie. When he was ready he set off to Dean and Cas’ table. “Here’s your apple pie,” he said, putting the dessert down in front of Dean.

 “Ah Sammy, you know the way to a man’s heart, don’t you?” Dean picked up his fork and winked at Sam. The barista blinked back in return, unsure how to respond. “I’m just mucking around with you, thanks for the grub.”

 Sam nodded. “Enjoy.” He went back to the counter, rested his elbows on it, and continued to listen to Dean and Cas’ conversation while trying not to look like he was listening at all.

 “I would consider telling people your full name is Casper when you die though,” Dean said, picking up the discussion where it had left off.

 Cas raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

 “Simple,” Dean answered, “So people will think you’re a friendly ghost.”

 Castiel couldn’t help but laugh at that. Dean smiled and took a bite of his pie. “I might just do that,” Cas said.

 “So what do you do for a living, Cas? From your suit I’m guessing you’re a business kind of man.” Dean continued eating his pie, watching Cas intently all the while.

 There was a pause as Castiel hesitated before he answered. He obviously still wasn’t comfortable talking to this strange man who had engaged him uninvited. “I’m only wearing this because I just came from church. I’m a tax accountant.”

 Dean swallowed his pie. “Ha! A holy tax accountant. So you believe in God, huh? That must be nice.”

 “Of course I believe in God,” Castiel said, “I have to believe in something.” He seemed quite affronted at the idea that anybody might not believe in God, although Sam thought he must have had this discussion before because he managed to keep himself from saying anything preachy. “From the way you speak I’m guessing you don’t believe.”

 “Too many things have happened to me to justify the existence of the Big Man upstairs,” Dean informed, “But of course I could be wrong. I don’t think I really feel that strongly one way or another. I don’t go to church, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

 Sam turned away and stood to attention. Another customer was approaching the counter. For the next ten minutes or so he was occupied with taking orders and churning out coffees. While he worked he thought about the two men over at the table. That Dean guy sure was charming, charming enough to get that seemingly tired and waspish Cas to start speaking to him anyway. If Sam had to guess he thought Dean might have been a salesman, he sure seemed to be suited to the job in any case.

 Outside it had started to rain again and the sound of pitter-pattering on the windows became noticeable background noise. It seemed to have gotten darker outside as well, probably a result of the big storm clouds passing overhead. When Sam once again returned his attention to Dean and Cas, they were both staring at the outside, commenting on the weather.

 “It’s a miserable day,” Cas muttered, running a hand through his messy hair.

 Dean, now finished his pie, pushed his plate away from him and picked up his coffee. “A little rain never hurt anybody.”

 Cas looked at Dean dubiously. “You’re annoyingly upbeat.”

 “Not really, I’m actually just trying not to think about anything bad. I already have enough crap going on, rain doesn’t seem like a good enough excuse to feel worse than I already am.” He tapped his fingers on the table and started staring off into space, but was duly pulled back into the conversation when Cas responded.

 “What’s happened to you?” He asked, looking genuinely concerned for the man who he had effectively just met half an hour ago.

 Sam unconsciously leaned forward, he too was curious to hear why Dean had suddenly gone so serious. His current vibe was much different to the one he had been putting out a few minutes ago, drastically different even.

 He shuffled around in his chair a bit before he began to answer. “Well I got fired from my job at the mechanic’s I’ve been working at for the last five years because they found some younger, apparently more motivated guy to take my place.”

 Cas and Sam both frowned. That sounded very unfair.

 Dean continued, “And my dad has disappeared off the face of the Earth, my mum rang me a few weeks ago and told me he just up and left. They didn’t even have a fight. I tried to look for him but he obviously didn’t want to be found, covered his tracks pretty well.”

  _‘Damn, what a thing to go through’_ Sam thought to himself. Cas must have been thinking along the same lines, because his expression only became grimmer.

 “Oh yeah, and my little brother who went off to university won’t even speak to me anymore since he left the family home. I tried to contact him but he won’t answer my calls or texts. He talks to mum though, so I know he’s okay.”

 Sam noticed Castiel’s hand tighten around the newspaper he had been absently fiddling with all this time. It crunched and creased in his grip that was so tight his knuckles were beginning to turn white. His lips pursed and his eyes slid away to the rain spattered windows. An uncomfortable silence fell over the two men, and Sam, feeling the awkwardness even from his place at the counter, had to pull himself away in order to compose his thoughts. He picked up a tea towel and started wiping down the espresso machine. He didn’t see the next part of Dean and Cas’ exchange, but he managed to still be able to hear it.

 “I’m sorry for unloading all my crap on you. I should have just kept it to myself,” Dean’s voice sounded again.

 “No, it’s okay. That’s horrible. I-I just don’t know what to say,” Cas’ voice replied with a tone of uncertainty.

 “Ain’t that the truth,” Dean chuckled.

 “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why did you come over here and sit with me?” asked Cas.

 “Truthfully?” Dean paused. “I just wanted somebody to talk to.”

 “And you thought the guy sitting alone with his face stuck in a newspaper was the prime candidate for that?”

 “What can I say, I’m weird.”

 “That I won’t deny.”

 The espresso machine was now sparkling clean, and Sam felt comfortable enough to turn back to look at the two men. Castiel had let go of the newspaper that he had effectively crushed in his fist beforehand, and was now holding his cup of coffee, looking like he had either just taken a sip or was about to take one. Dean was grinning again, obviously trying to lift the mood.

 “So you are – were – a mechanic. You must like cars then,” said Cas, obviously groping for small talk.

 Dean nodded. “Hell yeah! My favourite car will always be my 1967 Chevy Impala though; she’s my pride and joy. I call her my baby.”

 “’67 Impala, that’s an impressive find. You don’t see many of those around anymore,” Cas said in approval.

 “My dad found her at a secondhand car lot before I was born. He used to drive my brother and I around in it all the time when we were little; we thought we were the coolest kids on the block. A few years ago he decided he was too old and lame for it, so he handed it off to me and bought himself a Ute, been driving her ever since,” Dean said.

 Cas smiled. “Like I said, impressive.”

 “What about you Cas? Tell me a bit about yourself. So far all I know is your name and that it’s your job to organize moolah.” Dean took a long sip of his coffee and waited to hear what Cas had to say.

 “Heh,” Cas began, “There isn’t really that much to tell. My last name’s Novak, I have one sister named Claire. I grew up in a Christian household; I graduated from high school and got a Bachelor’s in Accounting at Stanford University. Started working at a crappy law firm about four years ago. My favourite food is hamburgers; I always wear this trench coat and my favourite blue tie. I go to church every Sunday and sometimes the days in between, and I’m fascinated by beekeeping.”

 Dean suddenly let out a raucous laugh that caused Castiel to jump in his seat. “Beekeeping? I think you’re the first person who’s ever told me they’re interested in beekeeping. What drew you to it?”

 “You know I’ve never been sure exactly,” Cas said, “I guess I just think bees are cool. Plus honey is always nice.”

 “Ever been stung by one?” Dean teased.

 “Yeah, I stepped on one when I was about seven. Never stopped me from liking them though,” Cas laughed.

 “I’m allergic to bees,” Dean said, “I still think it’s a pretty neat interest though. My last name’s Winchester by the way, since you told me yours it only seems right you should know mine.”

 “Like the rifle?”

 “Like the rifle.”

 Dean had expressed earlier that he hadn’t heard of anybody else named Castiel, but Sam had to admit he hadn’t heard of anybody named Winchester either. Of course he couldn’t really talk, you didn’t exactly come across the last name Wesson that much either. Still, it seemed very ironic that two people with such strange names could meet so easily. Sam imagined what it would be like if their names were combined: Castiel Winchester, Dean Novak, Winchester Novak; The last two sounded a bit off, but Castiel Winchester has a nice ring to it. If they were hypothetically ever to get married Sam thought Castiel should take Dean’s name, not that that would ever happen.

 “We have the same favourite food. Hamburgers for life, man!” Dean lifted his hand for a high five but Cas just looked at it. After a few moments Dean awkwardly put it down.

 Before anything more could be said, a girl who couldn’t have been much younger than Sam and Dean approached the table where the two men were sitting and tapped Dean on the shoulder. She was average size, with short legs and a cascade of bright purple hair flowing down her back.

 While Cas was still visible, the girl blocked Sam’s view of Dean, but he could decipher what was going on from Cas’ expressions as the other two spoke.

 “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you but I was sitting over at the window and I noticed you and your friend here. I don’t usually do this but you seem like a cool guy, I was wondering if you’d like to go out for drinks sometime?” She asked Dean. “I have a friend who’d definitely come along if your interested,” The girl quickly added, looking at Cas. He just stared blankly back at her.

 “Sorry sweetheart but we’re not interested. You seem like cool person too though, I’m sure there’s some fellas out there who’d love to have drinks with you and your friend,” Dean replied.

 Sam didn’t really pay attention to what the girl said before she walked back over to where she came from, looking quite disappointed at being turned down. By the way Dean had handled the proposition though Sam concluded he must have got that a lot. It didn’t really surprise Sam either, Dean was a handsome guy, heck, even Sam himself probably wouldn’t say no to Dean if the offer ever came. Cas on the other hand looked positively petrified by the exchange. Where Dean seemed to have ample experience, Cas appeared to have none. His hand was back to gripping what was left of the long forgotten newspaper, by this stage it was starting to look like a wad of kindling more than something that was supposed to be read. His eyes were hard and his lips were once again pursed.

 Dean, after letting his eyes linger on the girl as she walked away, turned back to Cas and almost immediately noticed how freaked out the guy was. “Women make you nervous, huh?”

 “Just a little bit,” Cas choked out, releasing the paper from his hands with great difficulty.

 “Ever had any girlfriends?” Dean asked.

 Cas shook his head no. “I was never really interested in that, and I never had the time.”

 “I’ve never had a serious relationship,” Dean informed, “Had a few flings here and there but I’ve never been able to keep myself interested long enough. Or maybe I just don’t think I’d make good relationship material.”

 Sam saw Cas slowly snap out of his nerve-induced stupor as he listened to Dean speak about his love life. “Do you want to get married?”

 Dean shrugged. “Maybe one day, I’m not really that fussed. Do you?”

 “Yes,” Cas answered so fast Dean had barely finished the question. “I want to get married and have children. I always have.”

 “I’ve never thought about kids,” Dean admitted, “I don’t know if I’d be a good father.”

 Cas rolled his neck. “We’ve only just met, but for what it’s worth _I_ think you’d be a good father.”

 “Thanks Cas.” Dean smiled, and Cas smiled back.

 Dean leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. “So you’re not that jazzed about women, how about men?”

 Sam pulled back slightly in surprise. Dean really had no filter. Even if Cas happened to be gay, his religious roots probably gave him great turmoil about it. He seemed like the type of person that wouldn’t allow himself to feel that way, and certainly not the type of person who would speak about it freely to a stranger in a café.

 “I-I don’t know what you mean,” Cas mumbled uncomfortably, doing his best to avoid the question.

 “You know, you ever sided with the same team?” Dean lifted his hands into the air. “No judgment man, I have friends who dig all sorts of people.”

 Cas looked down at the table. “I’ve never considered men,” he said with conviction.

 Dean could obviously feel the tension rising because he decided to drop the subject and move on. “My first girlfriend was named - hey that’s weird, she was named Cassie. Hell of a girl, really fun to just hang around with. We spent most of our time in bed playing videogames.”

 The look of relief on Cas’ face after Dean took the focus off him was significant. “That is weird,” he chuckled. “I used to play videogames with my sister. Until I moved out of the family home.”

 “Know what you mean, I used to spend heaps of time with my brother before I moved out,” Dean said.

 “What’s your brother’s name? You’ve haven’t said it,” Castiel inquired.

 It was true; this whole time Dean hadn’t even mentioned his brother’s name once, not even after Cas had said his sister’s name was Claire. Cas must have gotten curious, and although Sam hadn’t really noticed until Cas had pointed it out, now how was curious too.

 “My brother? His name is Adam.”

 “I used to know an Adam,” Cas told Dean, “We went to school with each other. We were only acquaintances, but he had a really nice girlfriend named Jessica. She would always smile at me when we passed each other. Lovely girl.”

 The café door opened and a deliveryman began pulling in three drenched boxes of coffee beans on a hand trolley. The howling of the wind outside filled the café and several customers pulled their jackets around them tighter.

 The man approached the counter and slapped down a clipboard in front of Sam. “What a day to be making the weekly delivery of coffee beans. Hope they’re still okay for you to use.”

 “Yeah they should be,” Sam said, signing the form, “They’re usually wrapped in plastic bags inside those boxes.”

 The man took the clipboard back from Sam and wheeled the boxes through the counter swing doors into the back. Sam glanced over at Dean and Cas and noticed Cas checking his watch.

 “It’s that late already?” He said more to himself than to Dean.

 “What time is it?” Dean asked, leaning forward to try and get a look at Cas watch.

 Cas held up his wrist so Dean could see. “4:30 already, huh,” Dean remarked, sitting back up.

 “Yeah time flies when you're…” Cas trailed off.

 “When you’re having fun,” Dean offered, grinning for what must have been the tenth time since he and Cas had met.

  Cas blushed. “Yes.”

 “So I suppose you have to get going now,” said Dean, picking up his half-drunk coffee which had long since been forgotten in the slew of conversation.

 “Yes, I have to do some shopping and then get home to make dinner,” Cas affirmed, folding up his crumpled newspaper and putting it in the inner pocket of his trench coat.

 Dean pulled over the napkin that had come with his coffee and wrote something down on it. He slid it over to Cas who picked it up and read it. “That’s my number, call me sometime. We should go out for something to eat or drink, or for a coffee.”

 For the first time since Castiel had entered the café he grinned. “I might just do that,” he said, tucking the napkin into his pocket with the newspaper.

 “Hope you have a nice dinner,” Dean said as Cas stood up.

 “You too, Dean,” Cas replied, picking up his umbrella.

 “So long, Castiel Novak.”

 “So long, Dean Winchester.”

 At that moment the deliveryman reemerged from the back with his empty trolley. “Everything is in order back there,” he said to Sam as he passed back through the counter doors.

 “Thanks a bunch,” said Sam, nodding to him as he left.

 Turning back to the counter, Sam was startled to come face to face with Dean. Sam looked over at the table but Cas was gone, and the only thing left were the two coffee cups and the empty plate from Dean’s pie. He looked back at Dean who smiled at him, and swallowed awkwardly. “Is there something I can help you with?”

 “I just wanted to give you some advice,” Dean said, “Next time you eavesdrop, try not to make it so obvious.”

 Sam swallowed again. “I don’t know what you’re-“ but before he could finish, Dean had smirked at him and turned around, and began walking towards the door.

* * *

 Sam often thought back on Dean and Cas. Just like the other people he had observed, he had created a story for them in his head:

 He liked to imagine that they had met up again like Dean had proposed, and that they had had another conversation like the last. Except maybe they got a bit more personal, a bit closer, a bit less awkward.

 He imagined that they became friends, fairly distant ones at first, but very good ones ultimately. They would see each other every few days, went out for drinks regularly. Dean always drove them around in his Impala and Cas would always recite facts about bees to him as they drove.

 Their looks at each other would start to linger, their laughs would become more genuine, their actions more in synch.

 One day they would find themselves holding hands, and not know how it happened. They wouldn’t care.

 Cas would start to question his faith. He wouldn’t know how to deal with his feelings for Dean. In the end he would give up and let himself feel what he felt, his family would be somewhat resistant, but they would end up accepting it.

 Eventually, they would fall in love. They would get married in Castiel’s church, although Dean would be reluctant about the whole marriage thing at first; Cas would make him give in.

 They’d adopt some kids, the ones Cas always wanted. Dean’s doubts would prove to be unfounded – he would end up being a great father.

 They would grow old together.

 They would be very happy.

 Of course it was highly unlikely that any of this would ever actually happen - it was all just a story made up in Sam’s mind, based off of one interesting encounter between two unlikely men that he happened to observe.

 There’s only one thing Sam knew for certain, and that was that next time he was going to be much less conspicuous. He _never_ wanted to be caught red-handed people watching _ever_ again.

 

 ~Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Huzzah for coffee shop AU's! 
> 
> I Hope you enjoyed reading this little story. 
> 
> Amber***


End file.
